


Fireflies and Atom Bombs

by owlwrites



Series: rust verse [1]
Category: Rust (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28614285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlwrites/pseuds/owlwrites
Summary: “Do you remember anything? From before?” He didn’t need to specify before what. They all knew.Corpse swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Not really. I was young. Like four. Maybe five.”Sykkuno let his head fall back against the stone, staring off into the shadows on the far side of the base. “I do."
Relationships: Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: rust verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125248
Comments: 7
Kudos: 259





	Fireflies and Atom Bombs

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Steel and Snare](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438284) by [JennaLee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaLee/pseuds/JennaLee). 



> A month ago did I think I would be posting RPF fic? Nope. And yet here I am. Uh.
> 
> This fic was very much inspired by [JennaLee's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaLee/pseuds/JennaLee) incredible work [Steel and Snare](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438284). It was originally a direct sequel, but it kinda took on a life of its own. You can read it by itself, but I do highly recommend checking out the original!
> 
> Also, a slight trigger warning for very vague references to sexual assault. It's never mentioned explicitly, but there are some not-so-healthy coping mechanisms here so be warned if avoidance and vague references to sexual assault is triggering for you in anyway.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

Despite the exhaustion of the day, Sykkuno woke after only a few hours of fitful sleep. Missing was the human warmth from his back, and the tip of his nose stung with the cold night air. He opened his eyes to long shadows extending forward, a lamp lit somewhere in the space behind him casting a yellow-orange glow that couldn’t quite chase them away completely, instead forcing them to retreat and pool in the furthest corners of the room. Groaning at the protest of his almost-30 year-old body as he released the aches set in from sleeping on the cold stone floor, Sykkuno turned himself over in jagged motions to face the only other occupant of his base. 

It was hard to tell if Corpse was awake or not – he was leaned back against the stone slab wall, eyes open but unfocused, staring at his upturned hands in his lap, utterly still. The flickering lamplight beside him sent the side of his face closest to Sykkuno into darkness, but he could see the outline of his jaw without the mask, the pock in his cheek where the cancer had eaten through before they developed the technology to remove it, the long line of his lashes extended further by the shadow. His whole form was outlined in the orange glow, like a blanket of a halo, alive and ever-shifting, uncertain. This time of night always seemed prime with subliminal moments, moments neither of this world or another, but even in that context, Corpse was ethereal. At some point, Sykkuno thought he ought to become less mesmerized by Corpse’s beauty, but it hadn’t happened yet. 

Drawing his gaze away, Sykkuno pushed himself up onto one hand, the blanket shifting down and exposing his upper body to the cold air. A shiver ran through him at the icy chill. The furnace must have stopped burning at some point while he was asleep. He wondered why Corpse hadn’t set it going again. 

Slowly, in increments, Sykkuno willed his stiff limbs to support him as he rose to standing and grabbed the closest piece of clothing to wrap around his shoulders, realizing only after the fact that it was Corpse’s jacket. Socked feet shuffled against the concrete toward the furnace, more chill sneaking in through the threadbare holes starting to wear at his big toe and heel. Between Sykkuno losing his clothes in the kidnapping and the state of the clothes they did have left, it was about time to make new ones. Another chill, this one not from the cold, ran down his spine, and he felt a phantom hand trailing an icy path down his wrist, his chest, his–

Cloth. How much cloth did they have? Just a few weeks ago they got a big load in a trade with the group to the west. Ash probably had it in her base still. He would ask tomorrow. 

Pulling Corpse’s jacket tighter around him with one arm, Sykkuno crouched in front of the furnace. Practiced fingers found the iron poker and shifted the ashes around in search of any still-burning embers, making a triumphant noise when he found a handful of them in the dust. Coaxing the fire back to life was mind-numbing in its familiarity, so he let his thoughts wander instead to his sewing for tomorrow. Sykkuno himself definitely needed at least a new shirt, and socks, a couple pairs, for both of them. Pants for Corpse, a jacket … A hat, if they had enough materials. The nights were getting colder again and the last thing they needed was frostbitten ears. 

As Sykkuno ticked through a list of items to craft come morning, flames caught the tinder and smaller branches he had already added and he set about placing the larger logs on top strategically. Warmth seeped out from the air in front of him as the flames licked higher. Sykkuno rubbed his hands gratefully as he watched them curl around the logs, the edges of the bark blackening and small sparks spiraling up into the floo in mesmerizing patterns. A memory flashed into Sykkuno’s mind, unbidden, of a summer night, fireflies floating in the darkness, blinking motes of light in the hot air. A sense-memory, the heady smell of summer grass and humidity hit his nose so sudden and all-encompassing that he breathed deep before he could think otherwise and sputtered out a cough when he inhaled smoke instead. 

“Careful.” Corpse’s voice, scratchy with disuse and the cold air, ground against the stillness of the night, drawing Sykkuno from his sudden flashback. 

When the coughing had subsided, Sykkuno looked back over his shoulder to Corpse and smiled weakly. “Thanks,” he said, voice still rough from the smoke. With the furnace now lit and filling the room once again with a faint warmth, the side of Corpse that had been previously cast in shadow was now illuminated in orange light. He was no less handsome for it. 

Looking away and rubbing his chest faintly, Sykkuno made his way over to the water purifier and poured himself a cup, chugging it back in two gulps, then repeating the action again. The icy droplets burned his throat more as it went down, but he swallowed it gratefully, chasing the acrid tang of smoke down until it was washed away. When he finished that glass, he poured another and walked back over to his and Corpse’s adjacent sleeping bags, offering it to the other man. 

Corpse stared for a beat before taking the cup and holding it in his two hands, though he didn’t move to drink it.

“Drink,” Sykkuno told him as he lowered himself down next to him. “It’ll help your throat.” He scooched himself as close as he could to Corpse, the entire line of their sides pressing together in a solid patch of warmth. The physical touch grounded Sykkuno back to the moment, back to the fact that the radiation had killed off the last of the fireflies years ago and the only one touching him right now was Corpse. 

Sykkuno nudged him gently with the arm closest to him, careful not to jostle the full cup. “Come on, I know your throat’s been bothering you lately.”

Corpse glanced over at Sykkuno, then back at the cup in his hands and dutifully took a few small sips before placing it down to the side next to the lamp. Sykkuno’s mouth knit in a tight line as he watched Corpse’s hands return to his lap, this time clenching into trembling fists. In fact, the whole line of his arm was trembling against Sykkuno, though whether out of tension or anxiety, he couldn’t tell. 

“Hey.” Sykkuno reached out with both his hands and took one of Corpse’s fists in his own. “Come on …” His hands worked their way into Corpse’s tight grip, his own fingers prying at Corpse’s in a silent plea for him to release. His fingers loosened in increments, revealing half-moon indents on his palms where his nails had dug into the flesh there. Sykkuno swiped a thumb over the marks with a frown. 

“What, do you need me to cut your nails for you now, too?” Sykkuno joked halfheartedly.

It was a poor attempt at levity, his voice wavering partway through, but it managed to pull a small chuckle out of Corpse. Sykkuno watched as one side of Corpse’s mouth lifted in a half-smile, and he found his own lips pulling up slightly in response. Despite everything, a small flurry of nerves rushed in his stomach and his cheeks flushed with faint warmth. 

Hands shaking slightly, Sykkuno enveloped the hand already in his grasp in both of his own and pulled it back into his lap, lacing his fingers through Corpse’s and letting it rest there protectively. The motion drew Corpse’s entire arm to rest over Sykkuno’s chest and shifted them closer, the weight warm and solid across his shoulder. He felt anchored down there, pulled into Corpse’s orbit so securely nothing – and no one – could take him. 

Sykkuno laughed softly, pulling his knees, and their linked hands with them, up to his chest. “What would you do without me?” It was a purely rhetorical question, so Corpse’s response took Sykkuno by surprise.

“I have no idea.” The words were soft and heavy with some kind of emotion – lost, Corpse sounded lost. 

Sykkuno’s mouth opened as if to speak, and a small hiccuped breath escaped, but no words. In that moment of hesitation, Corpse continued, “I wish it was different. I wish …” He paused, voice thick and wavering with some kind of suppressed emotion, “I wish I could send you away somewhere else.”

Oh.

Part of Sykkuno could understand. Objectively, the state of the world kind of sucked right now. Billions dead around the globe, radiation slowly killing everyone left - those who didn’t kill each other over irradiated food and scraps of metal first, that was. It was easy to fall into the mindset of wishing everything was different or wishing it would all go back to how it was before. 

And sometimes what happened yesterday happened. But that was the exception, not the rule.

Mostly, Sykkuno was happy where he was. He was proud of his little band of people at J10 who had come together with the goal of spreading peaceful trade through the island. He liked his friends and he liked the impact he’d been able to have in the world, no matter how small that world was now. 

He liked Corpse, and the fact that Corpse wanted to send him away made his stomach sick. 

A short, punched-out noise from next to Sykkuno pulled him out of his thoughts and made him realize he’d tightened his grip on Corpse’s hand enough that it was painful. Consciously, Sykkuno forced himself to relax. His fingers loosened in halting motions, his jaw unclenched, and a slow breath stuttered out of his lungs. From the side, he could see Corpse’s eyes on him, wide and golden in the firelight. He needed to do this right.

Sykkuno patted the back of Corpse’s hand apologetically before asking, “Do you remember anything? From before?” He didn’t need to specify before what. They all knew. 

Corpse swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Not really. I was young. Like four. Maybe five.”

Sykkuno let his head fall back against the stone, staring off into the shadows on the far side of the base. “I do. I remember my grandma’s cooking. And my sisters’ laughs. I was really into video games, you know – more than school, at least.” He smiled, heading lolling to face Corpse, who looked enraptured, lips parted and eyes staring right back at him. Sykkuno flushed, tilting his head back down and away. “I played a lot of, I don’t know – racing games, I guess you’d call them? And pokemon.

“I remember … I remember bees and – and song birds. Butterflies. Spicy food and Saturday morning cartoons.” He frowned. “But there’s so much I wouldn’t have experienced if things hadn’t happened the way they did. I was from California, before. Would you believe I’d never seen snow until I came here?” Sykkuno nudged Corpse with his shoulder playfully. It was almost always cold there, but the last time it snowed, Corpse had dragged Sykkuno out in front of their base to build snowmen. Everyone had ended up joining in: Ludwig and Toast and Rae – even Brooke set aside her beef with Corpse long enough to help out. In the end, the snowmen ended up looking more like little mounds with heads, but it was still one of Sykkuno’s most treasured memories. 

“What I’m trying to say is … I’m happy here, for the most part with – with y-you … and everyone else.” Sykkuno hesitated for a moment, worrying his bottom lip. What he had to say next was revealing a lot. He took a deep breath, before continuing, “Who knows if we would’ve met otherwise. A-and that makes it worth it. For me.” 

“Sykkuno …” 

Sykkuno turned at the sound of his name. Shadow and light played across Corpse’s face in a myriad of oranges and yellows, muted browns and flashes of pitch black. There was a moment of silence, broken only by a sharp snap as one of the logs in the fire let loose a burst of sparks, like fireflies dancing in the night before snuffing out one by one in the cold air. But Sykkuno didn’t pay them any mind. He held Corpse’s gaze, those golden eyes darting across his face as if searching for something. 

Eventually, Corpse brought his other hand up to Sykkuno’s face, caressing his cheek in a feather-light touch. Sykkuno leaned into it, closing his eyes when Corpse’s thumb stroked over his cheekbone. Corpse’s hand drifted down to cup his jaw, thumb trailing lower with it before reaching Sykkuno’s lips, brushing against them lightly. His touch spread fire down Sykkuno’s face, and, at the gentle press to his lips, Sykkuno, without thinking, puckered them slightly, giving the smallest pressure back. 

Corpse sucked in fast a breath through his teeth, the sharp sound of it like cold water dumping over Sykkuno’s head, and he flinched, jerking his head out of Corpse’s grip. Shame broiled hot and ugly in his stomach as the reality of the moment caught up with him, churning in nauseous waves and threatening to rise further. Face flaming, he opened his eyes, looking anywhere but at Corpse, and sputtered, “S-sorry, I-I didn’t – I d-don’t, I-I’m–”

Before Sykkuno could react, that hand was back on his cheek, turning his head back to the side, to Corpse, and, suddenly, there was another set of lips on his own. The press of them was firm and warm, sending tingles almost like pins and needles up his spine as an embarrassing noise escaped from somewhere in his throat. His eyes drifted closed again, and there was another moment of panic when Sykkuno thought Corpse was pulling away, but he just shifted the angle, chapped lips catching at his own as he tilted his head to the side and parted his lips slightly. Sykkuno responded in kind, getting lost in the sensations – their warm breath mingling, the smacking of their lips, the cold drag of the tip of Corpse’s nose on his cheek. 

An indeterminate amount of time passed before they parted, and Sykkuno was surprised to find he was breathing heavily, warmth pooled pleasantly in his stomach. He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips, giddiness rising up in his throat and escaping in a few high giggles. Opening his eyes, he found Corpse’s face only a couple inches from his own, flushed in splotches, eyes wide, and smiling gently. 

Then, in a soft voice, “Me, too. It makes it worth it for me, too.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [We tried the world, good God, it wasn't for us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658223) by [dangergranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangergranger/pseuds/dangergranger)




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